Reasons
by romirola
Summary: A sick and delirious Mark talks to dead April in feverish delusions, looking for answers. Collins and Roger try to see Mark through his illness. NO SLASH! Rating for language.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: This is my first RENT fic, so I hope you enjoy. This is what I have written so far as a Prologue. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own RENT.**

"Mark? Mark?! Hello!" Thomas Collins repeated with an edge at his roommate, Mark Cohen. He waited for an answer, but saw one wasn't coming. "Did you hear me?" he asked.

Blinking sluggishly, Mark looked up at Collins and shook his head to clear it. "Huh?" he choked out. "Oh, sorry. I guess I'm just sorta out of it today. What'd'ya say?" Mark yawned and started tapping his pen on the pad of paper he held in his hand that was filled with cross-outs.

"Me, Roger, and Mimi are goin' out tonight. Maybe to sneak into a show. You wanna come?" Collins told him. He hoped his friend would come along. He was beginning to get concerned for Mark, who'd stayed in their apartment everyday for the last couple days, other than work. Nonetheless, it was unlike him. "It'll be fun."

Mark shook his head and regretted doing so. The motion caused his head to spin. "Uhh…" he trailed off, trying to think of Collins's question. "No, no. Not today. I think I'll-" Before he could stop it, a sneeze escaped his mouth. "I'll stay home. I've been wanting to just sit down and jot a couple things down anyway. Go. Have fun. Get out of my hair!" he joked.

"You sure?" Collins insisted.

"Sure about what?" Roger asked nosily as he entered the room. He put the guitar in his hand down on the table and took the empty seat. "Collins is right. You should come with us tonight. If you want, we can go see some sappy chick-flick," he smirked.

"Look, it's been a long day and I just don't feel like it," Mark explained through a congested voice.

"You know, you've been really boring these last couple days," Roger noted as he put on his coat. "And you sound really nasally. And you look…" The guitarist thought for a moment. "You look all… blech!"

"Well, after that lovely description of myself, I really wouldn't want to go." He ripped off the top piece of paper on his pad, angrily crumpled it up, and threw it across the room. "Seriously, I'm fine. Go ahead."

Collins sighed. Mark looked so lonely there, sitting in the chair.

"But-"

"Guys, I'm fine," Mark assured his friends. "Will you go already?"

"Fine," Roger concurred. We'll be back tomorrow morning," he hesitantly added. "See you later."

"Call me when you need bail money!" Mark yelled to Roger and Collins as the door slammed shut, leaving Mark to himself.

**********

An hour later, Mark could still be found sitting in the same chair. Though he'd never admit it, Mark had nodded off and dozed a couple times during the night. It was odd, though. Mark always was wide-awake, especially when he was writing.

With a shaky hand, Mark's pen dropped suddenly onto the floor of the loft, making a clinking noise.

"Ohh. It's cold," he whispered to himself. He tossed his writing aside for the moment and went to go get his red and white plaid coat. Shivering, he put it on.

"Damn, it's freezing!" he cursed to himself while rubbing in and up and down motion on his arms, trying to heat up.

Suddenly, his vision swayed and swirled before him. If Mark hadn't reached out and grabbed onto the back on the chair, surely the filmmaker would've toppled over.

"Whoa…" murmured Mark, squinting to clear his still-blurry sight. A rush of tiredness abruptly came over Mark, and all he desired was to sleep. In an attempt to lie down, Mark staggered back over to the couch, just trying to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. If he could just reach the couch, he'd be able to lie down and sleep. A good night's sleep was all he needed, right?

With that intent on his mind, Mark attempted to take another step towards the couch. Instead, his knees gave out and he collapsed to the floor.

Before passing out into oblivion, Mark's last conscious thought in his head was:

_Hmm. Maybe I am a little sick after all…_

**So, that's the beginning! I hoped you've enjoyed. If you can, take the time to leave a review! I love hearing from you! **

**P.S. Thanks for reading, and I hope to see you next chapter!**


	2. The Meeting

**Hells, everyone! So, here's chapter two! I hope you enjoy it!**

*********

"The movie was so shitty!" Roger exclaimed as he turned his key in the lock of the apartment. "Two hours of my life gone."

"Stop whining," Collins shrugged as he and Roger stepped into their home. "You're just pissed 'cause it wasn't a chick-flick. We all know that inside you're really a sensitive soul."

Roger snapped his head back to look at Collins. "Shut up." As he took another step forward, Roger's foot connected with something on the ground. He turned his head to look at the floor, and he stared at the sight before him in horror.

There was Mark, shivering and pale, still on the floor from he where he had obviously collapsed.

"Roger? What is it?" Collins asked, moving closer. He caught site of Mark in a heap on the floor and sprang into action. "Holy shit! Mark!" He bent down and picked up Mark, placing him on the couch. "Hey, Mark, Mark? Can you hear me?" Seeing no answer coming, Collins put a hand on Mark's forehead to see if there was a fever. There was, and Collins could tell it was going to get worse.

"Mark, oh my God… No… No… Not again… Not you… Mark…" Roger began to ramble, grabbing a fistful of hair in each hand.

"Roger? Roger?!" Collins called. He placed his hands on Rogers shoulders and looked his friend in the eye. "Roger, snap out of it, man! I'm gonna need your help with him. Roger!"

The musician blinked rapidly to come back to the present. "S-sorry. Should I c-call 911?"

Collins thought for a moment. "No, no. There's no way any of us can afford a medical bill. We have to help him get through this." He looked at Roger, who had begun to hyperventilate. After debating it in his mind for a split second, Collins moved over and tried to comfort Roger.

"No, no, no…" Soon, words didn't even come out of Roger's mouth. Instead, he was just gasping for air.

"Roger, calm down!" Collins urged. "Breathe. Just breathe. Inhale Exhale. Inhale. Exhale."

As Roger's breathing patterns started to become regulated again, Collins relaxed, as well. "You need to help me here, and be strong for Mark. Now, what is this all about?"

"I'm sorry," Roger apologized as he ran a shaky hand through his brown hair. "It's just… I-I saw him… On the floor… Not moving… God, Collins! It… it was just like April!"

"It's okay, Roger. It's okay," Collins automatically responded. "Don't apologize. It wasn't your fault." He paused to breath, and prep himself for what he was about to say. "Look, Mark is sick. Really sick. I think he may have the flu, and it looks like it's always into the critical stage. Do you want to stay with Mimi for the next few days? Mark's only gonna get worse before he gets better. Can you handle it?"

Roger wouldn't meet Collins's eyes until he was absolutely sure of himself, and that took several minutes. "Yes," he nodded. "Mark helped me get through withdrawal. He helped me get thought everything else that happened. I did, and said some awful things then, but he still stayed with me. I… I need to be here for him."

"Good," Collins smiled. "Good. Come and help me get him into the bed. Then we have to get his fever down."

Roger collected himself and did exactly what Collins told him.

"Come on, man, get it together," he whispered to himself.

"For Mark."

*********

_It was quiet. The almost deadly silence was what Mark was firstly aware of. He looked around the loft to find himself in his bed. "Uh, what time is it?"_

_He got up with ease and saw Roger and Collins fussing worriedly near him. "Roger? Collins?" he questioned getting a little nervous at the way they didn't even make eyes contact with him. "What's wr- Oh my God!"_

_Mark turned to face whatever Roger and Collins were looking at, and with sheer horror, he saw himself in bed, looking sicker than death itself. "How… I…" he stuttered, too surprised by what he was witnessing to make any sense of the situation. "Roger?! Hey, man, can you hear me. I'm fine. Stop look so worried." He turned to Collins, desperate to be heard or seen. "Collins, hey, you can see me, right? Right?" he pleaded._

_Collins didn't pay any attention to Mark's begging. Instead, he and Roger kept vigil near the sick Mark's bedside. Sometimes giving him water, and others just talking to him. _

_"Guys?" Mark repeated, at a loss of what else to do._

_"'I'm fine'? Really?" smugly questioned a female voice that came from behind him. "You describe an out-of-body experience as fine?"_

_Mark turned, thinking that this whole situation couldn't get any more frightening and bizarre. That changed, when he saw who was talking to him, right there._

_"April?"_

**So, that's that! Leave me a review to tell me what you think! See you next chapter! **


	3. Answers Only Lead To Questions

**Thanks again to all who have read/reviewed/alerted! Here's another chapter! Enjoy!**

"What's he saying?" Roger queried as he put a cup of water on the bedside.

Mark lay on the bed, a bright sheen of sweat on his face. Even though he was weak for the sickness, he still, managed to twist and turn in his delirium. Collins had already given Mark some Tylenol to help with his fever. They way Roger figured it, if the medication had taken the edge off Mark's high fever.

"I don't know… He's delirious. He must be having a nightmare," Collins informed him.

Roger leaned in towards Mark's face, feeling his cheek to check his temperature. "Hey, Mark. I-it's Roger. I'm here. You're gonna be fine, I promise."

Mark didn't answer, but instead, his eyes closed and his head lolled to the side of his head.

"Oh, God, he can't even hear me," Roger sighed despondently. "He's gotta get through this."

"He can hear you," assured Collins. "And we're both gonna help him beat this."

*********

"_April, what…? How…?" Mark stuttered as he gasped at April, standing right there, in the flesh. Well, sort of. _

"_No, 'hello, how've you been?' Mark, you're the polite one of the Three Musketeers. I'd expect more from you!" April coyly noted. _

"_I… uhh…" Mark raised his eyebrows, staring at April, then at the ground. "You're dead!" he burst out. When he thought of the truth in that fact, a frightening idea came into his head. "D-does that mean that… I'm dead…?"_

"_No, not yet," April obliged, answering very straightforward. "Like I just said not two seconds ago, you're having an out-of-body experience. You're close to death. So close, that they," she pointed to Collins and Roger, "Can't recognize you're true form. You're soul, is over here with sprits. Like me. I'm down here to… well, by the time I'm gone you'll know why."_

"_No, no, no!" he said, frustrated beyond comparison. "What is THAT supposed to mean!?" Mark yelled at her form. "Just tell me how to get back into my body! I don't need all this crap right now!"_

"_First of all, calm down, because you ain't going nowhere with that attitude," scoffed April as she twirled her red hair. "Seriously, we need to talk."_

"_Oh, I wish I could, April, but I'm a little busy trying to figure out how to get back to the world of the LIVING!" he fumed, frantic about the turn of events. _

"_I'll wait," April countered. "What the hell do I care? I've got lots of time…"_

***********

"I… no… no… no…" the sick Mark whimpered as he fought against Roger's hand that was trying to give Mark some much-needed water. His hands flailed up and against the glass of water in Roger's hands, knocking it to the floor.

"Mark? Hey… hey, Mark, y-you need to calm down, okay? It's just, me. Roger," the musician tried to make him understand. To him, it didn't seem like Mark was understanding the message.

"What…? No…" Mark continued to mumble breathlessly, tangling himself up in the sheets.

Roger sighed in dissatisfaction and sat down on the side of the bed to study Mark.

Collins slowly opened the door on that sight. "How's he doing?"

Roger shrugged indifferently , even though indifference was the absolute last feeling he had. "The same, I guess. I can't even understand him half the time."

"I told everyone not to come over here while Mark is sick. Mimi sends her love," reported Collins.

"Yeah. Good," Roger replied absentmindedly.

"You go ahead and go to sleep, Roger," Collins offered. "We'll take shifts. I'll wake you in a couple hours. You look beat."

Roger shook his head at that offer. "No, no. That's okay. I'm good, Collins."

"Don't make me knock out your sorry ass," he threatened. "Go. I'll wake you at…" Collins glanced at his watch. It was only eleven-thirty p.m. "I'll wake you at two."

"Fine," Roger scoffed, accepting defeat. "I'll go, but you better wake me!"

**So, there's another chapter for you! I hope you like it! Leave a review for me to tell me what you think! I love getting hem!**

**Thanks for reading, and see you next chapter!**


	4. Two Sides To Every Story, One Outcome

"_This is insane. No, this is beyond insane…" Mark whispered to himself sitting in the chair across from where his body laid. April, of course, was right next to him._

"_I like what you've done to the place around here," April complimented. "It looks nice. A little messy, but, still…"_

"_Since, when do you care about a clean room? Or, even how a room looks?" he challenged bitterly. "But then again, I didn't know as much about you as I thought."_

"_Ooh. Do I suspect some hostility?" she asked curiously. "Look, there's a reason that I came down to you during this. You do, at least, realize that, right?"_

_Mark snapped his head up from its previous position, which was buried in his hands. "No, I didn't, 'realize that'. I must've forgotten all the lessons I've had in __Out-Of-Body Experiences: 101__."_

_April rolled her eyes at Mark's lame attempt at sarcasm. "Roger seems happy, when he's not all worried about you," she stated, looking over at him. _

"_Yeah. No thanks to you," Mark shrugged off bitterly._

_April inwardly smiled when Mark started to vent a little of his anger on her. After all, that's why she was here. _

"_Why do you say that?" she prodded. _

_Mark shook his head from disbelief at April's ignorance. "Do you even know what you did to him?" he demanded in a soft, but deadly, tone. "Do you have any idea what you put him through? You killed yourself, and he was devastated. You understand me?! Roger was twisted and broken when he found your body. For almost a month, he denied it was a suicide. But it was," he seethed. "I knew that from the moment I saw those slashes on your wrist. You selfish BITCH! You left him alone, with AIDS! He loved you, even though I can't see why. He could barely put his life back together after you did that to him. So you know had to help him through all this? I did! Me! I was there for every awful thing he said to me during his withdrawal. I was there for every nightmare he had about you. All of it. That wasn't fair to me, and it sure as hell wasn't fair to him!"_

"_Did you ever think about me? Huh? Do you know how it feels to actually push those blades into your skin and watch yourself bleed out?" April shot back emotionally. _

"_Bull!" Mark yelled. "Don't even try and play a sympathy card on me. Dying is easy. Living's hard. Getting up in the morning when you know that the girl you loved is dead by choice. Or that your best friend has to kick an addiction brought on by that same girl, and no matter what you do, he's still gonna be hurting?" Mark turned away, disgusted at the sight of April._

"_You asked me why I did it? Are you done ranting and whining now so I can answer?" she questioned solemnly. Suddenly, she didn't feel like her answer was even appropriate. Or… even relevant._

**********

"You… you… not fair… can't…" The words came rushing out of Mark's mouth. They were rushed together and became incoherent because of Mark's constant trembling.

"Easy, take it easy, Mark. It's okay. Everything's gonna be okay…" Collins assured him. He checked the time, making sure it was time for another dose of medicine for Mark. He reached for the bottle on the nightstand, only to find it was empty.

"Damn." Collins shook the bottle, disappointed when he didn't hear the rattle of pills.

"Don't..." Mark slurred before bursting into a fit of coughing as he turned his head.

That was all Collin's needed to see. It was all too clear to him that Mark needed the medication.

He walked over to where Roger slept and shook him vigorously. "Hey, come on, man! Wake up. Roger! Wake up!"

Roger rolled over, but still kept his eyes shut. "Oh, Mimi…" he smiled seductively. "I promise… Hmm… they won't be home for hours… Yeah…"

Collins rolled his eyes at Roger's sleep-talking. "Wake up!"

This time Roger sprang up out of his dream and awoke. "What…?" He blinked until he was fully awake. "Mark?" he asked with one simple word.

"He's out of meds. I'm going to go run and get some," Collins explained. "Can you stay with him?"

"Sure, sure," he agreed, and rose up out of his bed to sit next to Mark.

**********

_April glared at Mark for a long time, summoning up the courage to explain her past actions. "When I found out I was HIV positive that morning, I was devastated," she started. "I was the one who got Roger hooked on the drugs. Whether he was infected by my needles or our sex, it was still my fault. I killed him, and I couldn't live with that knowledge, day after day. So I finally just decided to end it. I convinced myself Roger would be better off without me. I found his razor and…" she paused. "I even did it in the bathtub so you guys wouldn't have to clean any of it up. I thought I was doing him a favor."_

"_The next day Roger took a sledgehammer to that tub and destroyed it. Piece by piece. You didn't help at all," Mark pointed out._

"_But, after I died, think of how Roger turned his life around. He… he's got Mimi, and he quit using," she listed. "He wrote his song. Now he's rocking again. Roger's happy. Even though my actions were awful, my reasons were true."_

"_I still think you were wrong," Mark made known. "But it doesn't matter, because it's already done with. But at least I know your reasons. That counts for something."_

_April smiled at Mark's statement. It was probably going to be the best terms the two could possibly come to. "I'm glad you see it that way."_

"_Tell Roger that…" she stopped. "Never mind. I'll tell him when he gets here. He should hear it from me."_

_Mark's jaw dropped open at her casual statement about Roger's death._

"_But it won't be soon!" she added quickly. _

"_Good," Mark breathed, clearly relieved. _

"_I'm telling you this. Keep looking out for each other. Just like the way you are. There's gonna be a lot of time where you'll need each other. So, take care of him, for me, okay?" she asked timidly._

_Mark nodded with sad, wide eyes at April's humbleness. "Always," he vowed to her, as well as himself. "I promise." _

_Simultaneously, April and Mark both hugged, feeling at peace with each other for the first time in a long time. _

**********


	5. Reason Why

**I forgot to put an Author's Note in the Other chapter! So, I hope everyone liked how April was characterized, and how I ended their meeting. Thanks for reading and sticking with this so far! Enojy!**

Mark opened his eyes and saw that he was lying down horizontally with a sheet covering his body. At first, Mark concentrated on the ceilings above him and stared.

Then, Roger came into view, bringing Mark back into reality. "Hey, Mark. Can you hear me?" he asked Mark.

"R-Ro…ger…?" Mark coughed. It was the first sign of lucidity of Mark that Roger had seen in hours.

"Yeah, Yeah, it's me," Roger smiled, putting a hand on Mark's forehead, noticing it was cooler then before.

Mark sluggishly blinked up at Roger. "Knew… you'd…" he breathed.

Roger hurriedly cut him off. "Hey, man, don't try to talk. Just sleep, okay. I'll be right here, when you wake up. I promise."

"I know…" Mark nodded. Before he knew it, Mark found himself actually listening to Roger's advice, even though he didn't want to.

**********

A couple hours later, Mark awoke again. Just as promised, Roger was right by his side. As Mark let out a breath of relief, he realized that he wasn't alone.

"Hey. You okay?" Roger questioned gently when he heard Mark sigh.

"Yes, Mom," Mark sarcastically answered, nodding. "How… How long have I-"

"All night." The answer came abruptly from Roger. He shuddered at the thought of finding Mark, home alone, passed out and lying on the floor.

"Collins?"

Mark's one-word question was immediately understood by Roger. "Sleeping," he quickly informed. "He's exhausted after having to go to three different stores to get this kind of medicine for you." That reminded him of the medicine Collins had just fetched. "Here." He grabbed two pills from the round container. "Take them," he ordered as if Mark didn't know what to do with them.

"Obviously," Mark scoffed, popping the white medication in his mouth and swallowing. "What else am I gonna do with it? Stick it in my ass?"

"I think I liked you better sick," Roger noted as his brow furrowed, although it was only a joke.

Mark hesitated before continuing. "I'm sorry about all this," he apologized to his friend. "I didn't know I was really that sick, and I made you and Collins worry, and…"

"Don't!" Roger shook his head sharply. "Don't apologize for being sick. It's wasn't your fault," his soft voice said. "So, do you…?"

Mark perked up as Roger trailed off.

"Do you remember anything?" he finished with caution. "When you were, you know, out of it?"

In a flash, Roger's question jogged Mark's memory. The past moments came flooding back to the filmmaker in a whirl of remembrance. "Yes," he stated matter-of-factly.

"And…?" Roger pushed.

"You're not going to believe this…"

**********

Mark took a deep, halting breath when he finished the whole story.

Roger could barely form words that made sense. "So you saw… April?" His hands shook as he thought more and more about it.

"Yeah," Mark laughed, although nothing was funny about the situation. The laugh was more on the brink of being hysterical.

"Really?" Roger asked, with a crooked brow.

Mark nodded for the thousandth time. "I know that what she did was awful, and this doesn't change that, but… maybe… knowing why makes it a little less … bearable."

"But… what did she want to tell me? I wonder… I mean…" Roger stuttered, at a loss for what to do or say.

"I think she wanted to say she loved you, but maybe she'll clarify it to you some other time." He shifted in the bed uncomfortably. "I could've died today. And know it I don't say it enough but… I love you."

"Love you, too, Mark," Roger said rubbing he back of his neck with his hand.

The two men smiled at each other, reflecting on their life, and the reasons why.

**END**

**That's the end! I hope you liked it! Leave a review for me, tell me hat you think!**

**Thanks for reading! **


	6. Author's Note

**Author's Note:**

Hey, everyone! Thanks for reading this story! I'm glad everyone liked my first Rent Fanfiction. I'll be posting a FULL version of "Reasons" now, so if anyone wants to reas it, you can do it without having to switch the pages for every chapter.

Thanks again everybody! Hope you enjoy!


	7. Reasons FULL STORY

** Reasons**

"Mark? Mark?! Hello!" Thomas Collins repeated with an edge at his roommate, Mark Cohen. He waited for an answer, but saw one wasn't coming. "Did you hear me?" he asked.

Blinking sluggishly, Mark looked up at Collins and shook his head to clear it. "Huh?" he choked out. "Oh, sorry. I guess I'm just sorta out of it today. What'd'ya say?" Mark yawned and started tapping his pen on the pad of paper he held in his hand that was filled with cross-outs.

"Me, Roger, and Mimi are goin' out tonight. Maybe to sneak into a show. You wanna come?" Collins told him. He hoped his friend would come along. He was beginning to get concerned for Mark, who'd stayed in their apartment everyday for the last couple days, other than work. Nonetheless, it was unlike him. "It'll be fun."

Mark shook his head and regretted doing so. The motion caused his head to spin. "Uhh…" he trailed off, trying to think of Collins's question. "No, no. Not today. I think I'll-" Before he could stop it, a sneeze escaped his mouth. "I'll stay home. I've been wanting to just sit down and jot a couple things down anyway. Go. Have fun. Get out of my hair!" he joked.

"You sure?" Collins insisted.

"Sure about what?" Roger asked nosily as he entered the room. He put the guitar in his hand down on the table and took the empty seat. "Collins is right. You should come with us tonight. If you want, we can go see some sappy chick-flick," he smirked.

"Look, it's been a long day and I just don't feel like it," Mark explained through a congested voice.

"You know, you've been really boring these last couple days," Roger noted as he put on his coat. "And you sound really nasally. And you look…" The guitarist thought for a moment. "You look all… blech!"

"Well, after that lovely description of myself, I really wouldn't want to go." He ripped off the top piece of paper on his pad, angrily crumpled it up, and threw it across the room. "Seriously, I'm fine. Go ahead."

Collins sighed. Mark looked so lonely there, sitting in the chair.

"But-"

"Guys, I'm fine," Mark assured his friends. "Will you go already?"

"Fine," Roger concurred. We'll be back tomorrow morning," he hesitantly added. "See you later."

"Call me when you need bail money!" Mark yelled to Roger and Collins as the door slammed shut, leaving Mark to himself.

An hour later, Mark could still be found sitting in the same chair. Though he'd never admit it, Mark had nodded off and dozed a couple times during the night. It was odd, though. Mark always was wide-awake, especially when he was writing.

With a shaky hand, Mark's pen dropped suddenly onto the floor of the loft, making a clinking noise.

"Ohh. It's cold," he whispered to himself. He tossed his writing aside for the moment and went to go get his red and white plaid coat. Shivering, he put it on.

"Damn, it's freezing!" he cursed to himself while rubbing in and up and down motion on his arms, trying to heat up.

Suddenly, his vision swayed and swirled before him. If Mark hadn't reached out and grabbed onto the back on the chair, surely the filmmaker would've toppled over.

"Whoa…" murmured Mark, squinting to clear his still-blurry sight. A rush of tiredness abruptly came over Mark, and all he desired was to sleep. In an attempt to lie down, Mark staggered back over to the couch, just trying to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. If he could just reach the couch, he'd be able to lie down and sleep. A good night's sleep was all he needed, right?

With that intent on his mind, Mark attempted to take another step towards the couch. Instead, his knees gave out and he collapsed to the floor.

Before passing out into oblivion, Mark's last conscious thought in his head was:

_Hmm. Maybe I am a little sick after all…._

"The movie was so shitty!" Roger exclaimed as he turned his key in the lock of the apartment. "Two hours of my life gone."

"Stop whining," Collins shrugged as he and Roger stepped into their home. "You're just pissed 'cause it wasn't a chick-flick. We all know that inside you're really a sensitive soul."

Roger snapped his head back to look at Collins. "Shut up." As he took another step forward, Roger's foot connected with something on the ground. He turned his head to look at the floor, and he stared at the sight before him in horror.

There was Mark, shivering and pale, still on the floor from he where he had obviously collapsed.

"Roger? What is it?" Collins asked, moving closer. He caught site of Mark in a heap on the floor and sprang into action. "Holy shit! Mark!" He bent down and picked up Mark, placing him on the couch. "Hey, Mark, Mark? Can you hear me?" Seeing no answer coming, Collins put a hand on Mark's forehead to see if there was a fever. There was, and Collins could tell it was going to get worse.

"Mark, oh my God… No… No… Not again… Not you… Mark…" Roger began to ramble, grabbing a fistful of hair in each hand.

"Roger? Roger?!" Collins called. He placed his hands on Rogers shoulders and looked his friend in the eye. "Roger, snap out of it, man! I'm gonna need your help with him. Roger!"

The musician blinked rapidly to come back to the present. "S-sorry. Should I c-call 911?"

Collins thought for a moment. "No, no. There's no way any of us can afford a medical bill. We have to help him get through this." He looked at Roger, who had begun to hyperventilate. After debating it in his mind for a split second, Collins moved over and tried to comfort Roger.

"No, no, no…" Soon, words didn't even come out of Roger's mouth. Instead, he was just gasping for air.

"Roger, calm down!" Collins urged. "Breathe. Just breathe. Inhale Exhale. Inhale. Exhale."

As Roger's breathing patterns started to become regulated again, Collins relaxed, as well. "You need to help me here, and be strong for Mark. Now, what is this all about?"

"I'm sorry," Roger apologized as he ran a shaky hand through his brown hair. "It's just… I-I saw him… On the floor… Not moving… God, Collins! It… it was just like April!"

"It's okay, Roger. It's okay," Collins automatically responded. "Don't apologize. It wasn't your fault." He paused to breath, and prep himself for what he was about to say. "Look, Mark is sick. Really sick. I think he may have the flu, and it looks like it's always into the critical stage. Do you want to stay with Mimi for the next few days? Mark's only gonna get worse before he gets better. Can you handle it?"

Roger wouldn't meet Collins's eyes until he was absolutely sure of himself, and that took several minutes. "Yes," he nodded. "Mark helped me get through withdrawal. He helped me get thought everything else that happened. I did, and said some awful things then, but he still stayed with me. I… I need to be here for him."

"Good," Collins smiled. "Good. Come and help me get him into the bed. Then we have to get his fever down."

Roger collected himself and did exactly what Collins told him.

"Come on, man, get it together," he whispered to himself.

"For Mark."

_It was quiet. The almost deadly silence was what Mark was firstly aware of. He looked around the loft to find himself in his bed. "Uh, what time is it?"_

_He got up with ease and saw Roger and Collins fussing worriedly near him. "Roger? Collins?" he questioned getting a little nervous at the way they didn't even make eyes contact with him. "What's wr- Oh my God!"_

_Mark turned to face whatever Roger and Collins were looking at, and with sheer horror, he saw himself in bed, looking sicker than death itself. "How… I…" he stuttered, too surprised by what he was witnessing to make any sense of the situation. "Roger?! Hey, man, can you hear me. I'm fine. Stop look so worried." He turned to Collins, desperate to be heard or seen. "Collins, hey, you can see me, right? Right?" he pleaded._

_Collins didn't pay any attention to Mark's begging. Instead, he and Roger kept vigil near the sick Mark's bedside. Sometimes giving him water, and others just talking to him. _

"_Guys?" Mark repeated, at a loss of what else to do._

"'_I'm fine'? Really?" smugly questioned a female voice that came from behind him. You describe an out-of-body experience as fine?"_

_Mark turned, thinking that this whole situation couldn't get any more frightening and bizarre. That changed, when he saw who was talking to him, right there._

"_April?"_

"What's he saying?" Roger queried as he put a cup of water on the bedside.

Mark lay on the bed, a bright sheen of sweat on his face. Even though he was weak for the sickness, he still, managed to twist and turn in his delirium. Collins had already given Mark some Tylenol to help with his fever. They way Roger figured it, if the medication had taken the edge off Mark's fever, it was a high fever.

"I don't know… He's delirious. He must be having a nightmare," Collins informed him.

Roger leaned in towards Mark's face, feeling his cheek to check his temperature. "Hey, Mark. I-it's Roger. I'm here. You're gonna be fine, I promise."

Mark didn't answer, but instead, his eyes closed and his head lolled to the side of his head.

"Oh, God, he can't even hear me," Roger sighed despondently. "He's gotta get through this."

"He can hear you," assured Collins. "And we're both gonna help him beat this."

"_April, what…? How…?" Mark stuttered as he gasped at April, standing right there, in the flesh. Well, sort of. _

"_No, 'hello, how've you been?' Mark, you're the polite one of the Three Musketeers. I'd expect more from you!" April coyly noted. _

"_I… uhh…" Mark raised his eyebrows, staring at April, then at the ground. "You're dead!" he burst out. When he thought of the truth in that fact, a frightening idea came into his head. "D-does that mean that… I'm dead…?"_

"_No, not yet," April obliged, answering very straightforward. "Like I just said not two seconds ago, you're having an out-of-body experience. You're close to death. So close, that they," she pointed to Collins and Roger, "Can't recognize you're true form. You're soul, is over here with sprits. Like me. I'm down here to… well, by the time I'm gone you'll know why."_

"_No, no, no!" he said, frustrated beyond comparison. "What is THAT supposed to mean!?" Mark yelled at her form. "Just tell me how to get back into my body! I don't need all this crap right now!"_

"_First of all, calm down, because you ain't going nowhere with that attitude," scoffed April as she twirled her red hair. "Seriously, we need to talk."_

"_Oh, I wish I could, April, but I'm a little busy trying to figure out how to get back to the world of the LIVING!" he fumed, frantic about the turn of events. _

"_I'll wait," April countered. "What the hell do I care? I've got lots of time…"_

"I… no… no… no…" the sick Mark whimpered as he fought against Roger's hand that was trying to give Mark some much-needed water. His hands flailed up and against the glass of water in Roger's hands, knocking it to the floor.

"Mark? Hey… hey, Mark, y-you need to calm down, okay? It's just, me. Roger," the musician tried to make him understand. To him, it didn't seem like Mark was understanding the message.

"What…? No…" Mark continued to mumble breathlessly, tangling himself up in the sheets.

Roger sighed in dissatisfaction and sat down on the side of the bed to study Mark.

Collins slowly opened the door on that sight. "How's he doing?"

Roger shrugged indifferently , even though indifference was the absolute last feeling he had. "The same, I guess. I can't even understand him half the time."

"I told everyone not to come over here while Mark is sick. Mimi sends her love," reported Collins.

"Yeah. Good," Roger replied absentmindedly.

"You go ahead and go to sleep, Roger," Collins offered. "We'll take shifts. I'll wake you in a couple hours. You look beat."

Roger shook his head at that offer. "No, no. That's okay. I'm good, Collins."

"Don't make me knock out your sorry ass," he threatened. "Go. I'll wake you at…" Collins glanced at his watch. It was only eleven-thirty p.m. "I'll wake you at two."

"Fine," Roger scoffed, accepting defeat. "I'll go, but you better wake me!"

"_This is insane. No, this is beyond insane…" Mark whispered to himself sitting in the chair across from where his body laid. April, of course, was right next to him._

"_I like what you've done to the place around here," April complimented. "It looks nice. A little messy, but, still…"_

"_Since, when do you care about a clean room? Or, even how a room looks?" he challenged bitterly. "But then again, I didn't know as much about you as I thought."_

"_Ooh. Do I suspect some hostility?" she asked curiously. "Look, there's a reason that I came down to you during this. You do, at least, realize that, right?"_

_Mark snapped his head up from its previous position, which was buried in his hands. "No, I didn't, 'realize that'. I must've forgotten all the lessons I've had in __Out-Of-Body Experiences: 101__."_

_April rolled her eyes at Mark's lame attempt at sarcasm. "Roger seems happy, when he's not all worried about you," she stated, looking over at him. _

"_Yeah. No thanks to you," Mark shrugged off bitterly._

_April inwardly smiled when Mark started to vent a little of his anger on her. After all, that's why she was here. _

"_Why do you say that?" she prodded. _

_Mark shook his head from disbelief at April's ignorance. "Do you even know what you did to him?" he demanded in a soft, but deadly, tone. "Do you have any idea what you put him through? You killed yourself, and he was devastated. You understand me?! Roger was twisted and broken when he found your body. For almost a month, he denied it was a suicide. But it was," he seethed. "I knew that from the moment I saw those slashes on your wrist. You selfish BITCH! You left him alone, with AIDS! He loved you, even though I can't see why. He could barely put his life back together after you did that to him. So you know had to help him through all this? I did! Me! I was there for every awful thing he said to me during his withdrawal. I was there for every nightmare he had about you. All of it. That wasn't fair to me, and it sure as hell wasn't fair to him!"_

"_Did you ever think about me? Huh? Do you know how it feels to actually push those blades into your skin and watch yourself bleed out?" April shot back emotionally. _

"_Bull!" Mark yelled. "Don't even try and play a sympathy card on me. Dying is easy. Living's hard. Getting up in the morning when you know that the girl you loved is dead by choice. Or that your best friend has to kick an addiction brought on by that same girl, and no matter what you do, he's still gonna be hurting?" Mark turned away, disgusted at the sight of April._

"_You asked me why I did it? Are you done ranting and whining now so I can answer?" she questioned solemnly. Suddenly, she didn't feel like her answer was even appropriate. Or… even relevant._

**********

"You… you… not fair… can't…" The words came rushing out of Mark's mouth. They were rushed together and became incoherent because of Mark's constant trembling.

"Easy, take it easy, Mark. It's okay. Everything's gonna be okay…" Collins assured him. He checked the time, making sure it was time for another dose of medicine for Mark. He reached for the bottle on the nightstand, only to find it was empty.

"Damn." Collins shook the bottle, disappointed when he didn't hear the rattle of pills.

"Don't..." Mark slurred before bursting into a fit of coughing as he turned his head.

That was all Collin's needed to see. It was all too clear to him that Mark needed the medication.

He walked over to where Roger slept and shook him vigorously. "Hey, come on, man! Wake up. Roger! Wake up!"

Roger rolled over, but still kept his eyes shut. "Oh, Mimi…" he smiled seductively. "I promise… Hmm… they won't be home for hours… Yeah…"

Collins rolled his eyes at Roger's sleep-talking. "Wake up!"

This time Roger sprang up out of his dream and awoke. "What…?" He blinked until he was fully awake. "Mark?" he asked with one simple word.

"He's out of meds. I'm going to go run and get some," Collins explained. "Can you stay with him?"

"Sure, sure," he agreed, and rose up out of his bed to sit next to Mark.

_April glared at Mark for a long time, summoning up the courage to explain her past actions. "When I found out I was HIV positive that morning, I was devastated," she started. "I was the one who got Roger hooked on the drugs. Whether he was infected by my needles or our sex, it was still my fault. I killed him, and I couldn't live with that knowledge, day after day. So I finally just decided to end it. I convinced myself Roger would be better off without me. I found his razor and…" she paused. "I even did it in the bathtub so you guys wouldn't have to clean any of it up. I thought I was doing him a favor."_

"_The next day Roger took a sledgehammer to that tub and destroyed it. Piece by piece. You didn't help at all," Mark pointed out._

"_But, after I died, think of how Roger turned his life around. He… he's got Mimi, and he quit using," she listed. "He wrote his song. Now he's rocking again. Roger's happy. Even though my actions were awful, my reasons were true."_

"_I still think you were wrong," Mark made known. "But it doesn't matter, because it's already done with. But at least I know your reasons. That counts for something."_

_April smiled at Mark's statement. It was probably going to be the best terms the two could possibly come to. "I'm glad you see it that way."_

"_Tell Roger that…" she stopped. "Never mind. I'll tell him when he gets here. He should hear it from me."_

_Mark's jaw dropped open at her casual statement about Roger's death._

"_But it won't be soon!" she added quickly. _

"_Good," Mark breathed, clearly relieved. _

"_I'm telling you this. Keep looking out for each other. Just like the way you are. There's gonna be a lot of time where you'll need each other. So, take care of him, for me, okay?" she asked timidly._

_Mark nodded with sad, wide eyes at April's humbleness. "Always," he vowed to her, as well as himself. "I promise." _

_Simultaneously, April and Mark both hugged, feeling at peace with each other for the first time in a long time. _

Mark opened his eyes and saw that he was lying down horizontally with a sheet covering his body. At first, Mark concentrated on the ceilings above him and stared.

Then, Roger came into view, bringing Mark back into reality. "Hey, Mark. Can you hear me?" he asked Mark.

"R-Ro…ger…?" Mark coughed. It was the first sign of lucidity of Mark that Roger had seen in hours.

"Yeah, Yeah, it's me," Roger smiled, putting a hand on Mark's forehead, noticing it was cooler then before.

Mark sluggishly blinked up at Roger. "Knew… you'd…" he breathed.

Roger hurriedly cut him off. "Hey, man, don't try to talk. Just sleep, okay. I'll be right here, when you wake up. I promise."

"I know…" Mark nodded. Before he knew it, Mark found himself actually listening to Roger's advice, even though he didn't want to.

A couple hours later, Mark awoke again. Just as promised, Roger was right by his side. As Mark let out a breath of relief, he realized that he wasn't alone.

"Hey. You okay?" Roger questioned gently when he heard Mark sigh.

"Yes, Mom," Mark sarcastically answered, nodding. "How… How long have I-"

"All night." The answer came abruptly from Roger. He shuddered at the thought of finding Mark, home alone, passed out and lying on the floor.

"Collins?"

Mark's one-word question was immediately understood by Roger. "Sleeping," he quickly informed. "He's exhausted after having to go to three different stores to get this kind of medicine for you." That reminded him of the medicine Collins had just fetched. "Here." He grabbed two pills from the round container. "Take them," he ordered as if Mark didn't know what to do with them.

"Obviously," Mark scoffed, popping the white medication in his mouth and swallowing. "What else am I gonna do with it? Stick it in my ass?"

"I think I liked you better sick," Roger noted as his brow furrowed, although it was only a joke.

Mark hesitated before continuing. "I'm sorry about all this," he apologized to his friend. "I didn't know I was really that sick, and I made you and Collins worry, and…"

"Don't!" Roger shook his head sharply. "Don't apologize for being sick. It's wasn't your fault," his soft voice said. "So, do you…?"

Mark perked up as Roger trailed off.

"Do you remember anything?" he finished with caution. "When you were, you know, out of it?"

In a flash, Roger's question jogged Mark's memory. The past moments came flooding back to the filmmaker in a whirl of remembrance. "Yes," he stated matter-of-factly.

"And…?" Roger pushed.

"You're not going to believe this…"

Mark took a deep, halting breath when he finished the whole story.

Roger could barely form words that made sense. "So you saw… April?" His hands shook as he thought more and more about it.

"Yeah," Mark laughed, although nothing was funny about the situation. The laugh was more on the brink of being hysterical.

"Really?" Roger asked, with a crooked brow.

Mark nodded for the thousandth time. "I know that what she did was awful, and this doesn't change that, but… maybe… knowing why makes it a little less … bearable."

"But… what did she want to tell me? I wonder… I mean…" Roger stuttered, at a loss for what to do or say.

"I think she wanted to say she loved you, but maybe she'll clarify it to you some other time." He shifted in the bed uncomfortably. "I could've died today. And know it I don't say it enough but… I love you."

"Love you, too, Mark," Roger said rubbing he back of his neck with his hand.

The two friends smiled at each other, reflecting on their life, and the reasons why.

END


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